JANUARY 2026

by Richard Collins

AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News.

Crossing the Rainbow Bridge to Canada,

it’s a bumpy ride over the dry Niagara, 

only a trickle of red from the wound below,

flags flying overhead, the Maple Leaf 

at half mast on one side, twin U.S. banners

on the other: Stars and Stripes, and the McDonald’s 

Arch redacted to add the eight stolen

Venezuelan stars in cheap gold leaf

from Home Depot. 

         And the quickly setting sun:

a leering orange troll with an oily glow

screaming like nails on a virtual chalkboard,

“GREENLAND UBER ALLES!” 

Author’s Note: This poem evolved from the logic of a dream. Like others whose sleep has been disrupted by the Venezuelan violation, I found sleep subconsciously interpreting the ruptures being perpetrated against our allies. Thus the wound at the border with our northern neighbors, the flag of economic imperialism now adding the Venezuelan arch of eight stars, the threats against Greenland. The leering orange troll that keeps torching the bridges to our allies with inflammatory midnight texts will be recognized worldwide. The one hope: that that doomed sun is setting.

Richard Collins, abbot of the New Orleans Zen Temple, lives in Sewanee, Tennessee. His books include In Search of the Hermaphrodite (Tough Poets Press, 2024), and Stone Nest (Shanti Arts, 2025). His forthcoming book of poetry, Cartoons for the Chaos (Shanti Arts) contains his political poem, "November 2024," which was published in Clockhouse and nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

ON BARS

by DeWitt Henry

Source: Cagle

A.G. Bill Barr
should be disbarred
and/or spend time
behind bars or
drinking at them,
both earnest and glib.
doing biddings of
our worst President,
bar none.

For lack of Barack,
step up, be heard;
raise the bar of expectations.
Climb the barricades.
High jump, pole-jump:
clear the bar.
Cross the bar.

Nearly half of us
fear barbarian hordes,
beards and all (unless
us is them).  Seek to
bar the gate, build barriers.
Keep us over barrels, where
barrels are meant for
storing and protecting,
e.g. over Niagara;
or for shooting fish,
or empty ones for noise.

The BAR man sights down
his ungainly weapon
(though Browning Automatic Rifle
has nothing to do with “baros,”
Greek for weight).

Bars of gold, candy, or soap.
Bars of music and rank.
Barcode.  Bar-
gain.  Crow, salad,
barbell and barometer.
Stars and bars forever.

Barbed.  Barred.

Democracy amok.

DeWitt Henry’s most recent prose collection is Sweet Marjoram: Notes and Essays (MadHat, 2018).  A new collection, Endings and Beginnings: Family Essays, is scheduled for 2020 from MadHat.  Poems have appeared in Ibbetson Street, On the Seawall, Plume, Muddy River Poetry Review, Constellations, and Woven Tale Press.  Henry was the founding editor of Ploughshares and is Prof. Emeritus at Emerson College.